I am a Halloween wuss. I like your basic witch stirring a bubbling pot. A ghost peeping around the corner and grinning like Casper. I think spiders and bats make great porch decorations. And I’m pretty sure doughnuts and spiced cider are far too civil for a horror halloween. If you want your Leatherface, Jason, or Hannible Lechter, my place is not the place to be.
If, on the other hand, you want Don Knotts and dry ice, come on over. I’ll tell you the one about Stingy Jack; the Irishman of such terrible drunken character that the devil came to take him early. And when Jack realized his time was up, he invited the devil for a last drink, even talking the host of the fiery realms into paying for it by transforming into a silver coin. When Jack tricked ol’ Scratch by popping him into a purse containing a cross, the devil agreed to leave him alone for ten years in exchange for his release. But Jack was smarter than that. And when the ten years was up he tricked Beelzebub again by enticing him to climb an apple tree and carving a cross in the trunk. This time Satan was defeated and vowed never to take Jack’s soul.
Trouble was, when Jack did die shortly thereafter his wretched soul prevented him getting into heaven. St. Peter wouldn’t have it. So he headed to Hades. And because of the promise he’d extracted from the devil, he was turned away there too. But not before Satan tossed him a coal to light his way in the no-man’s land between realms.
To this day you can see Stingy Jack wandering through swamps, around dark forests and villages, using the devil’s coal in a carved turnip for a lantern, trying to find rest. If you’re descended from the Irish — or know someone who is — then you keep the big orange American version of Jack’s lantern in your window or on your porch. Just in case he’s tempted to visit.
See? Now that’s just scary.
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